


Distant Shores

by indiefic



Series: Distant Shores [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Child Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Peggy Carter and Skinny Steve totally had a thing, Physical Abuse, Pregnancy, Prostitution, discussion of pregnancy termination, life in a D/s society, steggy babies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-16 16:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5832601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A companion piece to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5820001%22">There But For the Grace</a>.  This story will be a series of vignettes which jump around in time and tell the story of Steve, Peggy and assorted other MCU characters and original fictional characters who live in an alternate universe where the society is comprised of Dominants and submissives.  </p><p>Each chapter will be a self-contained vignette and will vary in tone, theme and rating.  Overall the story will be explicit, but not every chapter will be explicit.  Tags will be for the entire work, not individual chapters and will be updated as new chapters are added.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of content in this chapter that is not nice. A lot of abuse: physical, mental, sexual. I'm not into torture porn, so a lot of it happens offscreeen or is implied rather than described. But it's there. If this is terribly upsetting to you, please skip this chapter.

Steve Rogers didn’t remember his father.  

 

Joseph Rogers was a soldier, by vocation as opposed to birth.  The color on his chest marked him as only a few steps above a lesser.  But sometimes a few steps were all that mattered.  He wanted a better life and he wasn’t afraid to work hard to make it happen.  

 

Joseph fell in love with a lesser, a pretty girl whose mother had been owned by a family of merchants since before she was born.  Sarah had grown up working hard, but she’d been sheltered, provided for.  Gently used.  And the family got a decent return on their investment when Joseph paid them four months salary in return for the right to collar her.

 

In America, there was some upward mobility possible, provided you had a patch.  Joseph took Sarah across the ocean and they made a home together, hoping for a better life for them both.  It was a happy marriage, a good match, according to Sarah.  Steve didn’t think she had any reason to lie about it.  His ma rarely sugar coated the truth.  Joseph was a good man, a solid provider.  But he was never the same after he went to war.

 

It might have been easier if Steve had taken after his father, if he’d been born a dominant.  But Steve had seen enough of this life to know that even elevated status didn’t guarantee anything.  His ma was a lesser, and with her husband dead, now uncollared and unprotected.  Even if Steve had been born a dominant, he still would have grown up in the slums, living hand to mouth, often going hungry.

 

But Steve didn’t take after his father.  He was born a lesser, like his ma.  And he suffered her fate.

 

Steve didn’t remember ever having a real home.  They were nomads, running from one dry spot to the next, in the neverending storm.  There were respites.  For a while, his ma had a fella.  A banker, with a real apartment all his own.  Steve knew his ma hoped the fella would be good for a collar.  She looked so happy.  And then his ma told the fella about the baby.  And that was the end.  They were out on their ears.  No collar.  The baby never came, and even as a child, Steve knew better than to ask.

 

Sometimes, even on the streets, enough lessers would band together to be able to carve out some kind of life for themselves.  It was often single mothers with packs of children.  They’d pool their resources so the children didn’t go hungry.  But it invariably fell apart.  Sickness usually.  Diseases would sweep through the slums.  Steve got all of ‘em.  

 

The rheumatic fever, when he was eight, was the worst.  Nearly killed him, and he never really recovered.  After that his heart was always weak, he always had trouble breathing, and couldn’t really hear out of his left ear.  Something changed in his ma after that, a desperate resoluteness she hadn’t possessed before.  All Steve knew was that after that, they didn’t sleep on sidewalks.  

 

It wasn’t a great life.  He often curled up in a closet or under a table.  But there was always a roof over their heads and at least some scraps to eat.  His ma never slept next to him anymore.  She was always busy at night.

 

Steve was beaten his fair share.  He was an uncollared lesser, living in the slums, small for his age.  It’s just the way things were.  He was ten the first time his ma’s fella of the week grabbed him and told him he had a pretty mouth.  That first time, he cried to his ma.  She went after the guy with a knife, but he took it from her and broke her wrist in the process before he beat her half to death.

 

Bucky’s ma lived across the hall.  She helped patch Sarah up, took them in for the night.  Steve slept on the rug next to the bed Bucky shared with all his siblings.  They were dominants, but they were poor too, starving, barely better than lessers.

 

The next time it happened, Steve didn’t say anything to his ma.  There was nothing she could do about it, no way she could make it better.  Bucky helped him clean himself up, let him sleep on the floor for the night.

 

By that time, Sarah’s looks were gone and her health was failing.  No one was going to collar her.  Not ever again.  She got sick and Steve became the man of the family.  He kept a roof over their heads, the only way he could.  It was never much.  But he got good at making a dime, learned to be far away while his body did things his mind couldn’t process.  There was money to be made, for boys who looked younger than they were, with heavy lashed eyes, full lips and slender hips.

 

Sarah died anyway.  Not even forty.  And the money he made wasn’t enough to pay for a grave.

 

There were some dark years after that.  He’d make a dime, just so he could buy booze.  Anything he could use to escape, even if it was only into his own mind.  Bucky was beside him, following his own dark path, chasing his own demons.  Misery loved company.

 

But times were changing.  The wars were getting worse.  Steve could read.  His ma had made sure he learned.  He could speak nice too.  If the situation called for it.  He knew his manners, even if he didn’t use them.  He could pass for human if he had to.

 

He saw the headlines.  He knew times were getting desperate.  Bucky enlisted, and they took him, no questions asked.  He sent money home to his ma.  Enough to keep his sisters fed.

 

They were taking lessers.  They always needed people to clean things.  It wasn’t like having a collar, but it was almost as good.  What did it matter if he belonged to the government rather than to a person?  And the idea of a life, a real life, where he could maybe make a difference, no matter how small.  

 

The idea of that was almost more than he could fathom.  He’d been so lost for so long.  He wanted to help.  He  _ needed _ to help.

 

They didn’t want him.  Even desperate as they were, they weren’t desperate enough to take an uncollared lesser with pretty words and a weak heart.

 

Steve kept trying.  What else did he have to do with his life?

 

After his fourth try, Erskine found him.  It was dangerous, Erskine said.  An experiment.  Steve would probably die.

 

“Where do I sign up?” Steve asked.

 

END CHAPTER


	2. To Belong

She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman Steve had ever seen in his life.  Peggy Carter.  Yes, one of  _ those _ Carters.  She was one of Erskine’s first successes, and she was breathtaking.  

 

Phillips’ assessments were awful.  Running, jumping, shooting.  Steve was utter crap at all that.  But he was stubborn.  And he had nothing to lose.  He was also better at taking a punch - literal and metaphorical - than any of the other recruits.  Like anything else, there was an art to it.  To knowing how to shake it off.  Knowing how to pick yourself up again.  It was clear some of the recruits had never been knocked down.  Carter seemed to take particular delight in introducing them to the concept.  And she never pulled a punch.

 

Carter didn’t hassle Steve.  Which Steve found to be a mixed blessing.  He wouldn’t have minded being punched nearly so much if she was the one doing the punching.  But she never laid a finger on him.  All of the punching came from the other recruits.

 

Carter was an Alpha.  Steve knew that without being told.  The same way he knew he needed air to breathe.  He could feel it in his bones every time he looked at her.  Point of fact, it was difficult to look at her.  He couldn’t meet her gaze.  Not that he felt inclined to try.  But he knew he couldn’t, even if he’d wanted to.

 

* * *

 

As far as Steve knew, Carter had never so much as glanced in his direction.  So he was doubly shocked when he was jogging toward the barracks one evening and she called to him by name.  He stopped, like she’d nailed his boots to the hard packed earth.  The absolute biological imperative of following her order was like nothing he had ever felt.

 

Steve spent his entire life surrounded by people more dominant than himself.  But before he joined Erskine’s trial, he’d never been around an Alpha - they didn’t frequent the slums.  And he’d certainly never been around an Alpha from a Great House.  The desire to do  _ anything _ to please her was nearly overwhelming.  It was intoxicating.  

 

And unsettling.

 

For all his shortcomings, Steve Rogers had always held his own counsel.  Mind you, often times, he was a horrible counsel.  He was a bad influence on himself.  But even when he’d been physically forced into compliance with a dominant’s wishes, he’d always kept his own  _ mind. _

 

The fact that Carter could essentially speak  _ into _ him, direct his consciousness with a word or a gesture was infuriating.  And exciting.

 

Steve forced himself to take a step, and then another.  Away from her.

 

“Rogers,” she called again.  And he stopped.

 

She walked toward him, but halted maybe a dozen feet from him, far from the light of the lamppost.  “Come here,” she said.

 

Sweat beaded on his upper lip and between his shoulder blades as he warred with himself.  He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t speak.  But he managed to shake his head.   _ No. _

 

He heard a quiet sigh.  “Come.  Here,” she repeated slowly, her voice soft and intimate.  

 

His feet were moving before his brain had processed the words.  He stopped when the toes of her boots came into view.  

 

“Steve,” she said.

 

Her voice was like a jolt of electricity, starting at the base of his spine and traveling up to his head.  He shivered, nodding.

 

“Look at me,” she said.

 

He looked up.  She was taller than him, but not upsettingly so.  He’d put newspapers in his boots that morning, giving him an extra inch and a half.   Even with her command, it wasn’t easy to look at her.  She was ... stunning.  Steve wasn’t exactly a hit with the ladies, but he wasn’t typically intimidated by them either.  With the life he’d led, he’d seen everything there was to see, and then some.  He’d had a couple of girlfriends over the years.  Nothing serious.  It never could be if you were a lesser.  But looking at Peggy Carter, all of that fell by the wayside.  He felt like a bumbling innocent, seeing a beautiful woman for the first time.

 

She smiled at him then, soft and amused.  “You don’t like being ordered around,” she said, arching an eyebrow.

 

“Not particularly,” he replied.

 

“Odd for a lesser, don’t you think?  Especially one trying to join the military.”

 

He shrugged.  “Dynamic skillsets are always useful.”

 

She laughed then, deep and throaty and his entire body flushed in response.  He would do  _ anything _ to hear that sound again.  She shook her head, looking at him.  “I see why Erskine chose you.”

 

He was smiling at her.  Beaming like an idiot, waiting for a pat on the head.  He forced his lips into a line and nodded.

 

“Walk with me,” she said, turning back toward the barracks.  Steve fell into step walking slightly behind her, just off her left elbow.  He went partly because she ordered him, and partly because he wanted to.  He wasn’t inclined to question where the distinction was at that moment.  

 

“You’re the only lesser in the entire program,” she said quietly.  She looked over at him.  “The only reason they’ve allowed you in, is because they’re sure it will kill you.”

 

Steve nodded.  He already figured that out.  Lessers as cannon fodder was hardly a new concept.

 

“Dr. Erskine is a revolutionary,” Peggy continued.  “He can take someone, like myself, who is already an Alpha and imbue them with enhanced physical traits.  Make them, in effect, superhuman.”

 

Steve nodded again.  He’d seen her hit Hodge.  He knew she was enhanced.  

 

“He can even take someone like Underwood, who was a higher level dominant, and turn her into an Alpha.”

 

Steve stopped walking and arched an eyebrow at Peggy.   _ That _ , he did not know.  He assumed Underwood was born an Alpha.  That was the  _ only _ way to get an Alpha.  Had Erskine really found a way to  _ create _ an Alpha?

 

Peggy was quiet for a moment.  “You’re the real test,” she said soberly.  “Dr. Erskine means to prove that he can take a lesser.  And turn him into an Alpha.”

 

Steve’s mouth went slack and he stared at Peggy.  He knew Erskine’s goal was to make him stronger, faster.  Steve thought perhaps he’d be fit for active duty.  But he never dreamed he could be elevated to dominant class, much less possibly become a ... He shook his head.  “That’s - “ 

 

“Blasphemy,” Peggy said quietly.  She nodded.  

 

Steve frowned, the implications slowly dawning on him.  “So, are you here to get rid of me?”

 

Peggy gave him a withering look.  “If I meant to get rid of you, I would have done it in front of the entire regiment,” she said flatly.  Steve flushed.  “I wanted to make sure you understand,” she said, “that the  _ only _ reason the brass are letting you do this is because they are certain it will kill you.”

 

Steve shook his head.  “So you’re warning me off?”

 

Peggy sighed.  “I want you to understand what’s at stake.  For you.  Even if it’s successful.”

 

He frowned and his brows pinched together.  “Why are you doing this?”

 

She looked at him and leaned forward.  Her breath was hot and he could feel her lips move against the shell of his ear as she spoke.  “Because I’ve discovered I rather like you, Steve Rogers.  You have heart.”

 

With that, she turned and walked away.  Steve stood there, staring after her, more aroused than he’d ever been in his life.

 

* * *

 

Steve’s entire body felt like a tuning fork.  Any time Carter spoke, or moved, he seemed to vibrate in time.  He wasn’t stupid.  He had always understood the benefits of being collared.  Knowing where you next meal was coming from, having a warm place to sleep, those were nothing to scorn.  But he had never, in all his time, felt this desperate  _ wanting _ , a need to belong to a dominant.

 

There were all sorts of different ways for a lesser to be collared.  It could be what Steve’s parents had, a dominant collaring a lesser as a mate, a marriage in effect - the closest thing to marriage possible for a lesser.  But collaring could also be a business transaction.  It could be about companionship, a mutually beneficial arrangement where the dominant provided protection to the lesser in return for ... usually work; in a shop, on their back, it could be anything.  Companies could collar lessers, though they typically didn’t as it was cheaper to simply exploit them.  Having a collar meant a lesser was cared for.  Having a collar, to a lesser, meant belonging somewhere.

 

Steve had never particularly wanted to belong.  Until now.

 

It was laughable, he knew.  He wasn’t even fit to be a domestic in one of the Carter summer homes, much less be a companion to, be collared by, Peggy.  But he wanted what he wanted, and there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it.  He understood, for the first time, why some lessers were willing to risk everything to belong to someone.

 

There was a chance, he knew.  A chance that he’d survive Phillips’ bootcamp, that he’d be chosen to receive Erskine’s serum.  There was an even more miniscule chance that he might actually survive the procedure.  There was a chance that the procedure would change him, could possibly even make him a dominant.

 

Or, by some miracle, an Alpha.

 

Steve pushed the thought away.  Everything about him rejected it.  But he forced himself to consider it.  What if Erskine could do it?  What if the doctor could turn him - a lesser - into an Alpha?

 

What would Peggy think of him then? 

 

Probably that he was an idiot.  And that he should stop thinking of her as ‘Peggy’ and get back to work.  Also, probably that he’d be dead.  Murdered before anyone could learn that the impossible had been done, fate had been changed and a lesser had been made an Alpha - all through the power of science.

 

Steve watched the other recruits scramble over each other for the flag.  He waited until they had fallen back in line and he walked over to the pole and pulled the pin, before removing the flag and handing it to the drill sergeant.  He didn’t wait to be dismissed, he just crawled into the back of Carter’s Jeep.

 

She looked at him and he winked.

 

* * *

 

They had him cornered in the showers.  Again.  His shirt was torn, his nose bloody and he was only wearing his shorts.  They stopped, snapping to attention before she actually walked into the close, damp space.  You could feel her presence before she turned the corner.

 

Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the ground.  Even Hodge’s, and he was already and Alpha.  But, as Steve knew, there were Alphas and then there was Carter.  

 

“Out!” she snapped and everyone ran for the door.

 

She held out her hand, pushing it to Steve’s chest, stopping him.  “Not you,” she said.

 

He couldn’t look up at her, not like this, not bleeding and mostly naked.  She grasped his chin with her lacquered nails and tilted his head back, looking at his nose.  It wasn’t broken and it had mostly stopped bleeding.  He’d definitely had worse.

 

He finally met her gaze.  She was so close.  And quite tall.  He didn’t have his boots and newspapers, and she was in heels.  She stood there, above him, and Steve could barely breathe.  He was aware of the way her hair was starting to come loose from its pins, the soft rose scent of her perfume, and underneath it something that must have simply been Peggy.  It was intoxicating.  All of it.

 

She leaned forward, slowly, keeping a tight grip on his chin, and pressed a soft kiss to the bridge of his nose.  His bare toes curled against the damp tiles and Steve shuddered, a soft moan issuing from between his lips.  He had never, in his life, wanted anything as much as he wanted to belong to her.

 

“Shouldn’t you be telling me to stop,” she said, her voice rich with amusement.  “You seem to enjoy your acts of sedition.”

 

“I’m never going to tell you to stop this,” he said, before he’d even finished the thought in his head.  He looked at her, meeting her gaze.

 

She moved her hand, cupping his cheek.  “Do you want me, Steve?” she asked quietly, a little frown puckering her brows.

 

“More than anything,” he answered, aware that he was breathing hard, his chest heaving.

 

She smiled and leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his when she spoke.  “Then touch me.”

 

She didn’t have to ask twice.  Steve reached out, clutching at the edges of the field jacket she wore, at the same time she pressed her lips to his.  He gasped, parting his lips.  Her tongue edged against his upper lip, and his hands fisted in the material of her jacket, his knees going weak.

 

She pressed him back and he was dimly aware of his shoulders making contact with the cold tile wall.  She leaned in toward him, one hand braced on the wall near his head as the other skimmed down his bare side.  He pressed up against her, on tiptoe, deepening the kiss, pulling at her jacket for leverage.

 

She shifted, growling as she shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it away.  She did the same thing with her shoes and then slammed him back against the wall again, one hand fisting in his hair, the other roaming over his body, hard and possessive.  His mouth was open in a pant, his eyes screwed shut in bliss.  No one had ever touched him like this - like he belonged to them - and he was desperate for more.

 

Her hand found him, hot through the thin material of his shorts, and she rubbed him roughly, causing him to yelp, his hips to buck up against her hand.  Why she cared about his pleasure, he did not know.  But he would give her whatever she wanted.

 

His hand went to her hip, pulling her shirt free of her skirt.  Underneath, she was bare, no camisole, no girdle.  Her skin was so soft.  She groaned as he touched her, biting down on his bottom lip, hissing, “ _ Yes, Steve _ .”

 

She moved to the floor, mindless of the damp, pulling him with her.  He ended up on his back, Peggy crouched over him, kissing him deeply.  She seemed to want his participation, his hunger, so he obliged.  His hands were under her skirt, skimming up her thighs to cup her ass.  He shuddered at the feel of her, so strong, so firm.  She could have  _ anyone _ , and she had him pinned to the floor.

 

He was hard and aching.  He wanted her so much.  “Let me taste you,” he begged.

 

She pulled back, looking at him.

 

“Please,” he said.

 

She nodded, moving off him, onto her side next to him and then rolling onto her back.  He was immediately over her, kissing her, nipping his way down her neck, his fingers quickly undoing the buttons of her shirt, spreading the halves wide.  She tugged at her brassiere, contorting herself until the tight, confining material went lax.  His mouth went dry at the sight of her breasts, pale and perfect.  He kissed at the delicate skin, cupping them gently in his hands.  She encouraged him with words, her hands threading through his hair, arching into his kisses.

 

She liked it, but it wasn’t what she really wanted.  She pushed at him and he immediately complied.  He moved lower, pressing hard kisses to her stomach as his hands were again under her skirt, finding the waistband of her panties and garter belt, pulling them down her legs until she could kick them away.  He pushed her skirt up, bunching the material at her waist and then he was there, tasting her, lost in her.  

 

Steve had a talented tongue.  It’s what had kept him and Sarah from starving for years.  He used everything he’d learned to bring Peggy pleasure.  He heard her shouts ring off the tile walls, felt her nails scratch against his scalp as she bucked up against him, shaking.  She finally pushed him away, panting, fighting for breath before she tugged him over her again.

 

She bit down on his bottom lip, her nails digging into his hip.  “Fuck me.”

 

He skimmed his shorts down his legs so fast he nearly damaged himself.  But then he was there, between her legs.  He nudged at her, meeting her gaze.  She wasn’t going to tell him again.  He drove into her, his hips slapping against hers and she groaned.  Her hands were on his ass, pulling him harder against her.  He was too keyed up.  He didn’t last long.  He managed to pull out, spilling against her thigh as he hissed through his teeth.

 

He immediately reached for his shorts, using the material to clean up the mess.  Peggy made an irritated noise and tugged him down next to her, pulling him close.  He rested against her with a sigh, his body going boneless and limp.  He listened to the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears and he tried to commit every bit of the moment to memory.

 

Peggy’s hand idly threaded through his hair, curling around the base of his skull, cupping him to her in a way that made him shiver all over.  No lover had ever held him like that, but he knew the touch, the way every lesser knew.  It was the feel of a dominant offering comfort, belonging.

 

“Are you mine, Steve?” she asked, her voice quiet and soft.

 

“Always.”

 

END CHAPTER


	3. Wasted Heart

It wasn’t official.  It wasn’t even unofficial.  They were just words, spoken in the aftermath of  - in his opinion, very good - sex.  Steve Rogers did  _ not _ belong to Peggy Carter.  He never would.  It wasn’t something that could happen.

 

It was true enough that as an Alpha, Peggy could have any partner she wanted.  But even being paired with someone who was merely an Alpha - and not also from a Great House - would be a significant step down for her.  Peggy Carter paired with a lesser.  That didn’t even bear considering, even if collaring him wouldn’t have precluded her from having any other relationship she desired.  Prior to last night, Steve wouldn’t have thought that she’d dream of amusing herself with a lesser. She could, quite literally, have anyone she wanted.  There was no reason she should want a waste like him.

 

If Steve concentrated hard enough, he could still feel the pressure of her hand at the base of his skull.  He could still smell the scent of her skin.  He could still remember what it felt like to belong to her, however briefly.

 

Truly, it was more than he ever thought he’d have.  Even that fleeting moment of peace, so profound it soothed his soul.  It was more than he deserved.

 

And yet, a fleeting moment would never be enough.

 

It was probably a blessing that this process would likely kill him.  Because if it didn’t, Steve had no idea how he was going to live in a world where he’d known what it was like to be Peggy's, and to never have it again.

 

All the recruits were lined up, as usual.  There were nearly fifty of them.  Only two had washed out so far and the competition was still fierce.  Erskine said they’d take a dozen out of this group.  At least ten of the spots were already locked up.  Hodge, Falsworth, Wilkes, Frost, they were all ringers.  Along with a half dozen others Steve went out of his way to avoid.

 

With half a day left, two spots were still up for grabs.  Steve had no idea what he could possibly do to set himself apart.  He still didn’t understand why Erskine thought it was even a possibility that he could pass these assessments.  Erskine needed a lesser.  Steve understood that much.  He needed a lesser who was so unassuming that the brass figured the serum would finish them off.  Steve certainly filled that bill.  But it still didn’t explain how he was supposed to make the cut in the first place, or why Erskine chose  _ him _ .

 

Erskine, Phillips and Peggy were all standing in a tight circle, conferring.  It was pretty obvious that Erskine and Phillips were arguing.  The way Phillips kept looking over, Steve assumed it must be about the fact that he was still being considered.

 

Shaking his head in irritation, Phillips grabbed something and tossed it toward the rows of recruits.  “Grenade!” he bellowed.

 

The grenade didn’t roll far.  It stopped close to Erskine and Peggy.  Peggy didn’t move.

 

A confused rush for the grenade.  Steve quickly fell behind.

 

“Take cover!” Peggy yelled.

 

Recruits stopped.  Steve surged ahead.  Peggy was in danger.  

 

Across the distance, she met his eyes.  “ _ Take cover! _ ”

 

Steve skidded to the ground, on top of the grenade.  He waved Peggy off.  “Get back!”

 

Steve waited.  For the end.   It didn’t come.

 

“It’s a dummy grenade,” someone finally said.

 

Steve slowly uncurled from around the grenade and looked up.  He pushed himself into a sitting position.  Peggy, Erskine and Phillips were all staring down at him.  Phillips looked irritated, but resigned.  Erskine was positively beaming.  

 

Steve couldn’t make heads or tails of Peggy’s expression.

 

* * *

 

“A good man,” Erskine explained, tapping him in the chest.

 

Steve frowned, clasping the glass of schnapps tighter.  “But why would you think I could become ... that is, that I could - “  He couldn’t even say it out loud.  Peggy was right.  It was blasphemy.

 

“Be an Alpha?” Erskine asked, brows raised.  When Steve nodded, Erskine shrugged.  “You are a lesser,” he said plainly.  “A waste.  It is how you were born.  It is something that every single person knows, just by looking at you.”

 

Steve nodded, looking at the floor.  He knew this.  He  _ lived _ this.  Every day.

 

“Our position in society is something that every human has been told, our entire life, is immutable,” Erskine said.  He paused.  “But what if that is merely a convenient excuse?”

 

Steve looked up at him, holding his gaze for only a moment before looking back at the floor.  “I don’t understand.  An excuse for what?”

 

“To maintain an endless supply of unfortunates,” Erskine continued, his words tinged with bitterness.  “An entire class of people for whom basic rights do not exist.  An entire class of people to be taken advantage of, repressed, exploited.  All for the gain of those more powerful.  For no reason other than the whims of fate.”

 

Steve shook his head.  “But you said it yourself, doc.  We’re born this way.”

 

“Oh, indeed,” Erskine replied brightly.  “There is most certainly a genetic component to an individual’s dominance.  But many of our societal norms take advantage of that fact.  We do so much to prevent lessers from reproducing with dominants.  And when a female lesser gives birth to a child without being officially mated to a dominant, that child is automatically assumed to be a lesser.  Even if they may simply be one of the lower dominant classes.  Once that classification is made, there is no way out.”

 

Steve stared at Erskine, his head swimming.  The words Erskine was saying were more than simply dangerous.  More than simply blasphemous.  They were treason.

 

“The genetics of dominance aren’t nearly as clear cut as we’re taught,” Erskine said flatly.  “I believe it is something that can be manipulated.  And I intend to prove it.”

 

Steve looked at him, asking again, “Why me?”

 

Erskine smiled.  “Steven, you know that Agent Carter is an Alpha.”

 

“Everybody knows Peggy's an Alpha,” Steve said dryly.

 

“Indeed,” Erskine replied.  “An Alpha among Alphas.  Descended from a Great House.  And with the serum she received, now in possession of superhuman strength.  She is as dominant an individual as our nature and our science can devise.”

 

Steve glanced up at him, nodding.

 

“And  _ you _ ,” Erskine said, leaning forward, tapping Steve in the chest again.  “You, Steven Rogers of Brooklyn, a lesser, a waste.   _ You _ defied her command.”

 

Steve frowned.  “I didn’t - “

 

“You did,” Erskine replied firmly.  “You were the only one who did.  The only one who was capable of it.”

 

Steve thought about it.  Sure, he remembered Peggy yelling at them to take cover.  But she was in danger.  It wasn’t like he  _ defied _ her.  He just couldn’t allow her to be injured.

 

“ _ You _ did it,” Erskine said smugly.  “When no one else could.  That is why you are an ideal candidate.  A lesser.  Who is capable of so much more.”

 

* * *

 

The barracks were empty.  The other eleven recruits were in the bunkhouse across the road.  Probably so they didn’t beat Steve to death out of spite.  Steve thought he should be ashamed about being so obviously coddled, but mostly he was just relieved he could get a decent night’s sleep.  All of the other bunks were empty, mattresses rolled up, the only footlocker his own.  And now, with Erskine gone, he was alone.  And he didn’t even get any schnapps.

 

He tried to read, but his mind couldn’t linger on the words.  Tomorrow he’d find out what Erskine’s serum would do to a lesser.  There was a very good chance it would kill him.  He felt like that should bother him more than it did.  Seemed to be the theme of the night.

 

He was sitting there, elbows braced on his thighs, considering turning out the lights when he felt it.   _ Her _ .  He shivered and then heard the soft fall of her heels clicking on the worn barracks floorboards.

 

He was staring at the floor when Peggy’s toes came into his line of sight.  Her fingers carded through his hair and he sucked in a breath, arching into her touch.  In a fluid movement, she knelt on the ground, forcing his knees apart.  They were face to face, Steve’s hands fisted in the blanket to prevent himself from reaching for her without leave.  He still couldn’t get a bead on what her expression meant.

 

She lifted her hand, cupping his cheek and his eyes fluttered shut.  “Steve,” she said quietly.  He opened his eyes and looked at her.  She looked sad, but resolute.  She licked her lips.  “This could be our last night together.”

 

He nodded.  And if this was his last night on earth,  _ this _ was the only thing he would miss.

 

Peggy frowned, her lips pursing together.  She reached into her pocket and pulled something out.  She pressed it against his thigh.

 

Steve stared down, at the coiled length of olive drab nylon.  Did this?  Was this?  He looked up at Peggy.

 

Her eyes were glassy.  She opened her mouth to say something and then stopped.  Taking a deep breath, she said, “It’s not - “  She frowned, swallowing thickly.  “It’s just for tonight.”

 

Steve couldn’t do anything except stare at her.  

 

“It’s not,” she said, shaking her head.  “I mean if you don’t want - “

 

Steve cut off her words with a kiss.  For a moment, she was still and then she sighed and pushed into him, deepening the kiss.  She continued to kiss him as she threaded the nylon around his neck, buckling the collar into place.

 

Steve shivered, his hands finding her hips, fingertips pressing into her.  Peggy’s hand closed on his belt buckle, her fingers working it loose.  She tugged his trousers and shorts down his legs.  He lifted his hips, helping her, still kissing her. 

 

Finally breaking the kiss, she pulled back and looked at him.  She pressed her hand against his chest, forcing him to lean back, to brace his hands behind him.  Still watching him, she lowered her head, finally breaking eye contact as she took him into her mouth.

 

Steve whined, his eyes rolling back in his head.  Peggy was - Oh, god, Peggy was - He’d been hard from the second she walked into the room and she didn’t tease.  Without conscious thought, he moved his hips and Peggy immediately braced her forearms against his thighs, holding him still.  Her holding him down, her mouth working on him, combined with the feel of the nylon at his neck was more than enough.  He came with a soft cry, panting harshly.

 

* * *

 

Dawn was turning the sky pink when her hand went to the buckle at his neck.  Steve swallowed thickly, staring at the ceiling as she released it and pulled the collar free.  He felt naked, bereft, in a way he’d never felt before.

 

“They’ll be here in a few hours,” Peggy said quietly.  “To take you to the facility.”

 

Steve cleared his throat, still staring at the ceiling.  “Does it hurt?”

 

“Yes,” she said.  “It does.”  She pushed herself up on her elbow looking at him.  “Are you scared?”

 

He looked at her.  “Not of physical pain,” he said.

 

She leaned down, kissing him softly.  “Good luck, my darling.”

  
END CHAPTER


	4. Metamorphosis

Steve watched the truck leave, with the other recruits lined up in the back.  At Erskine’s nod, he climbed into the back seat of the car, next to Peggy.  Erskine was up front with the driver.

 

Peggy’s face was tight.  The muscles in her jaw stood out in harsh relief and her hands were balled into fists.  She was looking out the window, not acknowledging him and it absolutely crushed him.  He wanted to curl up on the floorboards at her feet, beg her forgiveness.  His dominant was unhappy, angry with him.  He needed to make it right.

 

He didn’t.  As it turned out, he had enough pride and self-mastery to avoid rolling over and showing his belly in public.  But the pull was there, in his head, located at the base of his skull.  Where his dominant’s hand should have been.  Where _ her _ hand should have been.

 

Erskine turned on the radio.  This clearly wasn’t a standard issue military sedan.  The music was light, jazzy, and it did nothing to lift the mood in the car.

 

“It’s my choice,” Steve said quietly.

 

Peggy’s head snapped around so fast he was surprised he couldn’t hear an audible crack.  His eyes immediately went to the floorboards and he swallowed thickly.   “Dr. Erskine needs a lesser,” Peggy said through clenched teeth.  “You’re a terrible choice.”

 

Steve frowned, glancing up at her.

 

“You can’t follow a bloody order to save your life,” she said, throwing it down, virtually daring him to argue with her.  He wouldn’t.  He doubted he could, even if he wished it. 

 

Steve’s frown intensified, but he didn’t say anything.  He watched out the window.  They were driving through Brooklyn.  “I know this place,” he said quietly.  “I got beat up in that alley.  And that parking lot.”  He paused.  “And behind that diner.”

 

He could hear Peggy’s teeth grind together.  “Precisely my point,” she said.  “You’re a pitiful lesser.  Never learned your place.  Why didn’t you run away?”

 

Steve shrugged, not looking at her.  “You start running, they never let you stop.  They'll run you to ground.”

 

Peggy snorted and crossed her arms over her chest.  She didn’t speak to him for the remainder of the ride.  Eventually the car pulled up to the curb.  Peggy hopped out, waiting next to the open car door.  Erskine was already headed inside the antique shop.  Peggy waited for Steve, still looking irritated, the color along her cheekbones high.

 

Steve climbed out of the car and stood up, as tall as his boots and newspapers would allow.  He turned toward Peggy, but didn’t look her in the eye.  “I never truly felt like a waste until I met you,” he said quietly.  

 

He turned and walked into the store.

 

* * *

 

There was a queue, which Steve knew to expect.  Apparently here, he wasn’t to be segregated from the dominants in the program.  It wasn’t even a room where they were waiting.  It was just a hallway, lined with a wooden bench on either side.  There were ten people waiting.  Steve did a quick headcount.  Hodge must have already been inside, being prepped.  

 

Steve took a seat, next to Frost.  She didn’t acknowledge him in any way.  Not that Steve expected her to.  Peggy walked past them and into the procedure room, ignoring all the recruits.  Two weeks ago, he would have expected that.  But now, it hurt.

 

Steve listened.  For hours.  To the screams, the racket of the machinery.  He didn’t hear anything that made him think things weren’t going according to plan, but then again, his hearing was pretty crap.  No one ever came out of the treatment room.  Steve assumed there must be another exit somewhere.

 

It was late when the guard finally escorted him into the treatment room.  The space was larger than he expected, with a viewing box in the corner, though it was empty.  There were at least a dozen technicians and medical staff.  They all looked exhausted, but shock still registered on many of their features.

 

Erskine pushed his glasses up on his nose and gave Steve a small smile.  “Still sure you want to do this?” he asked quietly.   Steve nodded.   Erskine seemed to expect the answer.  “Take off your shirt, your tie and your hat.  Dog tags too.”

 

Self-consciously, Steve unbuttoned his shirt and then shrugged out of his undershirt.  He handed the shirts, dog tags and hat to someone.  He didn’t notice who.   Erskine turns to ask the nurse something, but stopped.  He gave Steve a hard look before turning to the nurse, listing off instructions.

 

The technicians led Steve to the table, strapping him down.  He turned his head and finally saw Peggy, standing on the periphery, observing.  He watched Erskine look over at her, frowning.  Then Erskine walked up to him and stood next to the table, his hand on Steve’s shoulder.   Erskine looked pointedly at the bruise on Steve’s neck, from the collar last night.  He sighed and Steve knew Erskine did not approve.  “Steven,” he said quietly.  “I have faith that this procedure will work.”

 

“That’s good, right?” Steve said with forced brightness.

 

Erskine’s lips pressed into a thin line.  “Everything will be different, Steven.   _ Everything _ ,” he said sadly, giving Steve’s shoulder a squeeze.

 

Steve didn’t know what that meant, but it scared him more than anything else about this, more than bootcamp, more than being strapped to the table, more than the needles.  The base of his skull and his neck burned and his heart pounded in his chest.  He searched frantically for Peggy.  She was still there, but her expression was softer, she was biting down on her bottom lip, arms crossed over her chest.  She looked scared.

 

“Proceed,” Erskine called, and the pod started to move.

 

* * *

 

The pod opened and everything was a blur.  Lights were too bright, sounds were too loud.  His body was ... different.  Everything was different.   Erskine was there, and the inventor, Stark.  They were supporting him, though in truth, Steve’s legs felt steadier than they’d ever felt.   “How do you feel?”

 

Steve turned his head, staring down at Peggy.  He blinked at her for a moment.  He hadn’t felt her, hadn’t been aware of her until she spoke.  He opened his mouth, vainly performing a mental inventory.  He looked down at her again.  “Taller.”

 

She looked up at him warily.  “You look taller,” she said carefully.  She glanced him over from head to toe, frowning.  She reached out and quickly touched his chest, like she was afraid of being burned.  The nurse handed her a shirt, which she then handed to Steve.

 

Still breathing hard, he pulled the shirt over his head.  Alarms blared and a phone started ringing.   “Shit,” Stark cursed, crossing the room, reading from paper printing out of one of his instruments.

 

“Is it bad?” Erskine asked.

 

Stark nodded.  The upper doors to the treatment room were thrown open and Phillips barreled through.  “Carter,” he snapped, “grab your new toys and get a move on.  We have incoming.”

 

* * *

 

Steve was in the back of the truck with the rest of the recruits.  There were a half dozen assistants - Steve didn’t know what they were, technicians, military personnel - passing out gear.  Steve shrugged into the uniform, fumbling with buckles and straps.

 

“Jesus,” Wilkes said, next to Steve, “I guess that serum really did a number on you.”

 

“I, uh,” Steve floundered, looking at Wilkes, who, outwardly, looked no different.  “Yeah.”

 

“Can you, uh?” Wilkes asked, miming for Steve to turn away from him.  Steve turned and Wilkes adjusted the straps that crosscrossed between Steve’s shoulder blades, tightening them, which settled the front of his chest plate into place.  

 

Steve was aware that something had been weird about the exchange with Wilkes, but he couldn’t place it.  At the front of the truck, Carter stood up and bellowed orders.  Steve watched and listened.  He’d known this was coming, that they gave him these abilities so he could fight.  He just hadn’t anticipated it being quite so soon.

 

The truck skidded to halt in front of a bunker and everyone filed out and inside.  The bunker was teeming with people and equipment.  Stark was already here, Steve had no idea how he’d managed that.  The recruits were led into an enormous underground room where a glowing cube was mounted on a raised platform in the middle of the cavernous space.

 

“What do the levels look like?” Stark yelled.

 

A technician ran to him with a printout and he looked it over, nodding.

 

“Okay, Carter,” Stark yelled.  “Your bunch is up.  Good luck.”

 

There was an enormous burst of energy and the cube crackled to life.  Around it, the air seemed to warp and twist until Steve was looking not at the other side of the bunker, but at a starscape.  

 

“What the hell is it?” he asked.

 

“A portal,” Frost said.  She looked up at him.  “Welcome to the front lines of our war.”

 

END CHAPTER


	5. The Mage’s Blessing

There is precedent for absolutely everything in the Carter household.  Steve has learned not to ask questions.  So when the mage is escorted in, her weathered fingers dripping with precious stones, he doesn’t object.  This is the same mage who has overseen every impending Carter birth for the last fifty years.  God forbid they forego tradition.

 

Peggy is in the sitting room, lying on the antique sofa.  Everything’s an antique in this place.  Everything has been in the family for generations.  Steve stopped being impressed months ago.  Maybe it’s because he’s from Brooklyn, but the Carter ancestral home house reminds him of a crypt.

 

Peggy’s hot, tired, her temper waspish, her body ungainly.  The late afternoon sun glints off the fine sheen of perspiration on her skin.  Her cheeks are flushed, her dark hair curling in wisps around her face.  Steve’s never seen anyone more beautiful.  

 

The baby could arrive any day now.  According to Peggy, it’s late, though the doctor doesn’t seem to agree with her assessment.  It’s just as well, Peggy’s mother informs them, that the baby hasn’t come early.  It means the mage can do a proper blessing, as has been done for countless generations.  Peggy seems much less concerned about propriety than her mother, but she doesn’t object.  She knows the futility of arguing with the Carter matriarch.

 

The mage takes a seat on a small stool, her hands framing Peggy’s belly.  She speaks the words, words Steve has never heard before and cannot understand.  It’s the old tongue, never spoken outside the Great Houses.  These traditions, these ceremonies are for the elite.  And up until recently, he’s been waste.  Across the room, Peggy’s mother nods sagely, so he supposes this is how it must go.

 

But then the mage stops, her already pale face going bloodless.

 

“What is it?” Peggy asks, her voice thin, reedy.

 

The mage forces a smile and finishes the blessing.  Peggy’s mother takes the woman aside and Steve finds himself summarily escorted from the room.

 

* * *

 

Steve hates living here, under the same roof as Peggy’s extended family.  There are so many rules, so many times during the day where he clearly falls short.  He is not the mate they wanted for their only daughter and they remind him of that at every turn.

 

Up to this point, they’ve never prevented him from seeing Peggy.  But it’s clear that’s what this is.  

 

Steve Rogers is used to having doors shut in his face.  

 

This is a problem he can solve.

 

* * *

 

He climbs through the window and hurries across the room to where Peggy is lying in the bed.  She reaches for him as he approaches and he gathers her into his arms, pulling her against his much larger form.  She’s been crying and even now, her hands are shaking.

 

“What’s going on,” he asks softly, terror seizing at his heart.

 

Peggy opens her mouth and then dissolves into body wracking sobs.  

 

He waits, holding her.  “It’s the baby, isn’t it?” he asks quietly.  “There’s a problem.  Why didn’t the doctors find it?”

 

Peggy shakes her head and looks up at him.  “It’s a waste,” she says dully.

 

Steve frowns at her, but then realization dawns.  “A lesser,” he says, his hand instinctively going to her rounded belly.  He meets her gaze.

 

Peggy nods sadly, crying, burying her face against his chest.

 

Steve sits there in shock.  A lesser.  Their child is a lesser.  Steve feels like he should be disappointed, but he isn’t.  Not really.  He’s just shocked.  He never considered it would be possible.  He’s an Alpha now. Peggy’s an Alpha - from a Great House.  Alphas don’t beget lessers.  Especially not Alphas who can trace their bloodlines back a thousand years.

 

He holds her tighter, kisses the top of her head.  “It’s okay,” he says quietly.  “It’ll be okay.  We’ll figure it out.”

 

She pulls back and looks at him, her face blank.  She shakes her head.  “You don’t understand,” she says quietly.  “The doctor is on his way.”

 

Steve frowns.  “But you’re not in labor.”  His heart catches.  “Are you?”

 

Peggy shakes her head, pushing herself up into a sitting position next to him.  She reaches out, cups his face in her hands.  “Steve,” she says quietly.  “The doctor is on his way to ...” she looks away and curls in on herself again, sobbing.

 

Steve’s hands tighten in the material of her shirt.  “To kill it?” he hisses, realizing what she means.

 

Peggy nods, curling into a ball as much as her condition will allow.

 

“Is that- “ he asks.  He swallows thickly, looking at his wife.  “Is that what you want?”

 

Peggy doesn’t look up, but she shakes her head vigorously, wrapping her arms around her middle.

 

“Okay then,” Steve says, rising to his feet.  He holds out a hand to Peggy.  “Come on,” he says, “we’re getting the hell out of here.”

 

* * *

 

Steve wonders dully if this is what it was like for his father, arriving in New York.  Of course, there are differences.  His father wasn’t an Alpha.  And he didn’t arrive in Howard Stark’s private plane.  But the rest of it, the heavily pregnant wife, the dufflebag containing all of their possessions, that much is similar enough.  Wayward souls in search of a new beginning.

 

They find a small apartment in Brooklyn.  It’s not the greatest.  Steve has some money saved up, but not a lot.  He can make money, that’s not a problem.  He can support his little family.  But it’s a far cry from the luxury to which Peggy is accustomed.

 

He knows she’s not soft.  He fought beside her for years, shared the same rations, slept on the same lumpy cots.  But this isn’t war.  This is their family.  And he knows Peggy had to have imagined better for herself and her children.

 

She doesn’t complain.  Point of fact, she doesn’t say much.  She’s quiet, withdrawn.  She doesn’t talk about it.  Steve doesn’t either.

 

The child - it being a lesser - that doesn’t bother Steve.  It’s how he was born.  He hates that their child’s life will be hard.  But he also know that with two Alpha parents and social connections, it won’t be the kind of life he lived.  It won’t mean scavenging on the streets, easy prey for anyone stronger.

 

* * *

 

It’s late in the afternoon.  Steve was at the bar on the corner, meeting with a guy about a job.  When he returns, Peggy’s standing, arms braced against the kitchen counter, forehead beaded with sweat.  Steve goes cold.  “Is it time?” he asks.

 

She nods, jaw tight.

 

It’s dark, the night sweltering and still.  All of the windows are open wide and the sounds of the neighborhood filter in.  The midwife is on her way, but it’s a busy night, lots of babies.  It’s the coming storm, or so he was told.  It’s not much of a consolation as he watches Peggy quiver with pain on the bed.  She’s quiet, which scares him more than if she were screaming.

 

The contraction ends and she takes deep, heaving breaths.  She looks over at him in the dim light.  “Do you understand the old tongue?” she asks.

 

“Not much,” he admits.  “A few words.”

 

She nods.  “ _Welcome my child, chosen and marked by my love, pride of my life_ ,” she says quietly.  “ _May your heart spread throughout the universe, may this vow reach into the unlimited, unbounded future, may this young and tender life never lose the innocent nature, or the benevolence and beauty of true feeling_.”

 

Steve bows his head, blinks quickly.  “Is that the mage’s blessing?”

 

Peggy nods.  

 

* * *

 

The silence seems to stretch out for days and Steve can’t breathe.  But then there’s a gasp and a high pitched wail splits the air.  Some minutes later, Peggy gives him a sad smile, wiping at the tears on his cheeks as she pulls him close.  The little girl - their daughter - is on her chest, skin to skin, silent now, but eyes quickly moving to take everything in.

 

Steve wraps his arms carefully around both of them, unable to find any words that seem appropriate.  He has never felt anything as strong as the fierce instinct to protect them both.  He would do anything for them.

 

* * *

 

It’s not like Steve hasn’t seen a baby before - or even a lesser baby.  The slums where he grew up were full of them.  But this is different.   _ She _ is different.  Evelyn.  Evvie.  

 

He supposes Peg’s family must know about her by now.  They had to register her birth.  Evvie wasn’t stamped.  Not like Steve had been.  Steve’s stamp is long gone, just one of the many traces of his former life that disappeared with Erskine’s formula.  It’s standard protocol to stamp - what an inadequate euphemism, it’s either a brand or a tattoo - lesser newborns.  But as with most things, the rules don’t necessarily apply to Alphas.  

 

And no one is marking his child.

 

Evvie starts to fuss and Steve crosses the room, carefully handing her back to Peggy, where she sits in a chair by the window.  Absently, Peggy opens her shirt and pulls the baby to her breast.  As the baby nurses, Peggy tucks little wisps of dark hair back behind her tiny little ear.

 

Peggy glances up at him and frowns.  “You okay?”

 

He nods, unable to speak for a moment.  He clears his throat and says gruffly.  “I love you.”

 

She smiles softly.  “We love you too.”

 

END CHAPTER


	6. Heart of the Matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jumping around a little here. I promise we will return to the adventures of recently embiggened Steve. But for now, another glimpse of the domestic life of Steve, Peggy and Evvie.
> 
> This story is already tagged for child abuse. In this chapter, a parent hits a child. I don't feel like it's gratuitous, but it's there, so if that is something you wish to avoid, please do not read this chapter.

“You listening?” Howard asked.

 

“Uh,  _ yeah _ ,” Steve replied, not really listening as he plucked the stick out of three-year-old Tony’s little hands.  Howard was oblivious, his attention fixated on the film being projected against the far wall.  Tony glared up at Steve, his irritation clear.  Holding his ground, Steve crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head at the little boy.  “No hitting,” he repeated, for what he felt like was the thousandth time.  Not that he thought it would do any good.  Tony Stark was an Alpha, one of the most dominant ones Steve had ever seen.  Tony would not be cowed by anyone or anything, including other Alphas ten times his size and in possession of superhuman strength.

 

“What?” Howard asked, looking over his shoulder.  He saw Steve and Tony having a stare off and he shrugged, turning back to the film, unconcerned.

 

“Daddy,” Evvie said, holding her hands out to her father.  Sighing, Steve picked her up, glad that Peggy wasn't around to see.  Peggy was constantly reminding him that a nearly seven-year-old was too big to be picked up.  Evvie's arms immediately went around his neck as she stared warily down at Tony.

 

Evvie was twice Tony’s age and appropriately larger, but Tony tended to spend their entire playdates torturing her.  Howard didn’t seem to notice or care.  Steve did both.  He spent the bulk of these visits ensuring that Tony didn’t do physical harm to Evvie.

 

Steve walked back over to the sectional where Howard waited and resumed his seat, Evvie in his arms.

 

“Whatsamatta, sweetheart?” Howard cooed to Evvie.

 

She climbed out of Steve’s arms and curled into Howard’s lap.  She adored Howard and Howard liked being adored.  Though Steve knew Howard did legitimately like Evvie, considerably more than he liked other children, his own included.

 

“See, now this part here,” Howard said to Steve, pointing to the film, “this is where it gets interesting.”

 

Steve watched.  It was interesting.  Howard was experimenting with new ways to stabilize interdimensional portals.  Not that Steve understood most of what he was saying.  But it was a really good light show.

 

Tony snuck around the corner of the sectional and pinched Evvie, who yowled in response.  

 

“ _ Hey _ ,” Howard snapped, backhanding Tony so hard he fell down.  Howard pointed a finger at Tony, who glared up at him.  “Knock it off, dammit.”  

 

Steve had no faith that Tony was going to do as instructed and Steve didn’t want to watch the war of wills between the two Starks.  “Howard,” Steve said, rising to his feet.  “We’re gonna go.”

 

“What?” Howard said, face falling.  “You just got here.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, “but Peg’s cooking and we need to get home.”

 

Howard frowned, clearly irritated, but didn’t argue.

 

* * *

 

“How’d it go?” Peggy asked, looking up from her book.  She saw Steve’s face and said, “That good, huh?”

 

Evvie bolted around Steve and ran to her mother, curling into her arms.  Peggy cuddled her close and kissed her on the top of the head.

 

“We have to find her some playmates who will actually play with her,” Steve said quietly.  “And not treat her like a prey animal they’re hunting.”

 

Peggy nodded, her lips pursed together.  It was a tired discussion.  Evvie needed friends.  But Evvie was a true lesser.  And while a number of Steve and Peggy’s friends had children, they were all dominants and tended to, well,  _ dominate _ Evvie when they played together.  When she’d been smaller it was less of an issue.  But the “play” was getting rougher.  Tony was half her age and Steve had held out hope it might work, but clearly he’d been overly optimistic.

 

Peggy set Evvie back and kissed her cheeks before shooing her off to play in her room.  When they were alone, she turned to her husband.  “We can’t protect her for her entire life, Steve.”

 

“The hell we can’t,” he snapped.  “That’s  _ exactly _ what we’re going to do.”

 

The administrator at Evvie’s public school had quietly suggested to Peggy that they find a ...  _ situation _ for Evvie.  It was done.  In those rare instances where extremely dominant parents produced lesser children.  It was kinder, he assured her, than forcing Evvie into a daily routine that could only result in her harm.  There were places that would take children like her, especially when money wasn’t an obstacle.  And there was little doubt that Peggy's family would pay to send Evvie away.

 

Peggy brought it up with Steve, and the fight had been one for the ages.  He slept on the couch, by his own choice, for a month, and redoubled his efforts to keep Evvie close and safe.  He walked her to and from public school every day.  Evvie assured them last week that the black eye she received on the playground had been because she tripped and fell.

 

“It’s never going to get better at her school,” Peggy said quietly, hands folded in her lap.  “She will always be at the bottom of the pack.  Erskine is dead, his research is gone.  And his dreams for a new world where dominance is malleable are dead with him.  Evvie is who she is, who she will always be.  When she hits puberty it’s going to be a thousand times worse.  You know that.  Our world is dangerous for her.”

 

“So we should put her out to pasture somewhere,” Steve said.  “Sweep her under the rug.  Let someone  _ deal with her _ .  I'm sure your mother would love that.”  He shook his head, pacing in a tight circle.  “She needs to be with people who love her and care for her.”

 

“I know you think this is your fault, Steve,” Peggy said quietly, “but it’s not.  It’s just the hand we were dealt.”

 

He stared at her, jaw clenched tightly.

 

Peggy sighed, staring at her hands.  “She’s not like you, Steve.  You grew up surrounded by other lessers and lower order dominants.  And, even then, you were pretty crap at being a lesser.”  She looked up at him.  “Evvie’s not.  She follows, without questioning.  She yields.”

 

“She wants it?” Steve said, eyebrow arched, expression icy.  “Is that what you’re saying?”

 

Peggy shook her head sadly.  “She won’t ever fight back. That’s what I’m saying.  We have a child who is the sheep amongst the wolves, and she isn't afraid, even though she should be.  She will never be afraid.”

 

Steve growled under his breath and stalked into the kitchen.  Peggy heard him open the refrigerator and take out a beer.  Not that it would do anything to his constitution, but she knew he rather liked the dramatic flair of it.  He came to stand in the doorway again.

 

“Did you remember to stop at the store?” she asked.

 

“ _ Shit _ ,” he cursed.

 

“Probably just as well,” Peggy said pertly.  He needed to buy more prophylactics.  They were out.  But it wasn’t exactly like this conversation was going to put either of them in the mood.

 

“We could risk it,” he said, the challenge clear.

 

Peggy frowned, looking up at him.  She knew, without a doubt, that it wasn’t that he was in an amorous mood.  It was that he wanted to argue about this.  “I’ve already made myself clear on this subject.  I’m not going to fight about it now.”

 

She stood up, intending a strategic retreat to the bedroom.

 

“Right,” Steve said, taking a drink from the bottle of beer, “we wouldn’t want to risk having another waste.”

 

Peggy stopped very close to him and stared at him.  “I have never been bothered by the fact that Evelyn is a lesser,” she said firmly.  “I’m bothered by the fact that her being a lesser is ripping our family apart because you can’t deal with your guilt.”

 

* * *

 

In the end, Steve and Peggy were forced to take Evelyn out of school after a particularly vicious incident that resulted in a broken wrist and jaw.  It was Evvie's wrist that was broken.  And the jaw of the father of her assailant, after Steve got ahold of him.  

 

They found a new placement.  Nothing quite so dramatic as Steve had feared.  The school was created primarily for the children of domestic servants, lessers, in service in very wealthy, dominant households.  It was only a subway stop away.  Steve and Peggy weren’t the appropriate level of wealthy, but they were both Alphas, it wasn’t a stretch to get a recommendation.

 

Steve could still take Evvie to and from school every day.  But she no longer came home with black eyes, or bruises she wouldn’t explain.  She was a little out of place, due to the fact that both of her parents were Alphas, unlike most of her classmates.  In theory, most of Evvie’s classmates were lessers, born to lessers.  However, Steve knew that many of the children in the school were the product of lesser mothers and rich, dominant fathers.  It depressed him, but he took some measure of comfort in the fact that at least their fathers were seeing to their educations.  They cared enough to do that much.

 

Evvie loved her new school.  She got along with all of her classmates and she adored her teachers.  She finally had peers she could relate to on an equal footing.  She was becoming more sure of herself, more able to separate her wants and needs from who other people wanted her to be.

 

All in all, Evvie’s new school was a vast improvement.  And their home was a lot more peaceful.

 

“She has a bruise on her arm,” Peggy said as Steve slid beneath the covers, curling around her.

 

“She fell,” he said.  “I saw it happen.  She launched herself out of one of the swings and didn’t manage to stick the landing.”

 

“Well, points for trying, I guess,” Peggy said, pushing back against him.  

 

He made a sound of agreement, nuzzling against the space behind her ear, his hand skimming down her side.  She turned in his embrace, hooking her leg around his waist, running her fingers through his hair, kissing him.  He pulled her hips against him, kissing her with unmistakeable hunger.

 

“Did you remember - “  Peggy asked, breathless.

 

Steve groaned, burying his head in the pillow.  “ _ Dammit _ .”

 

Peggy nipped at his ear, tightening her leg at his waist.  “It’s okay,” she said.

 

He turned his head and looked at her in the dim light.  “Are you sure?”

 

She nodded, kissing him again.

 

* * *

 

John Rogers Carter was born on a cold winter morning in the same little apartment in Brooklyn where his sister was born eight years earlier.  Steve and Peggy had forgone the Mage’s blessing, reasoning that no matter what she said, it wouldn’t change anything.

 

The labor was mercifully short, and by lunch, mother and son were napping peacefully.  Steve led Evvie into the bedroom by the hand, and she clung to him, peeking around him at the tiny baby asleep against their mother’s chest.

 

“What do you think?” Steve asked, smiling down at her.

 

She beamed up at him.  “He’s perfect!” she chirped.  “He’s an Alpha like you and Mama.”

 

END STORY


	7. Golden Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Peggy take their children to the park.

Steve hears a high pitched wail and is already wincing by the time he turns around.  He sees the little boy sprawled on the ground, crying, John standing over him with a satisfied look on his face.

 

Steve helps the little boy up, muttering an apology and avoiding the mother’s accusatory glare as she gathers her child up and leaves the shaded play area.  Crouching there, Steve looks over at his not quite three-year-old son, frowning.  “Buddy,” he says seriously, “what’re you doing?  You can’t go around knocking people down.”

 

John turns away, hurrying back over to where Evvie is helping him make a sand castle.  Their faces light up as they look at each other and Steve sighs.   He stands up and retreats over to the park bench, taking a seat next to Peggy.

 

“I don’t know what’s going on with him,” Steve says.

 

Peggy looks at him, her lips curved in a slightly humoring smile.

 

“What?” Steve says.

 

Peggy shakes her head.  “He does it when the other kids get too close to Evvie.”

 

Steve frowns and looks over to where Evvie and John are playing.  And sure enough, as soon as another kid gets too close, John heads to intercept.  Steve manages to catch him this time, before anybody gets a skinned knee.  Steve joins them in the sandbox.  

 

With Steve sitting there, John seems to take a break from protecting Evvie, trusting that Steve will do it.  And Steve certainly will protect her, though he doubts it’s quite as dire as John seems to think it is.  Evvie is small for her size, she always has been.  But at eleven, she doesn’t have much to fear from a bunch of three and four year olds, even if they are more dominant.

 

The rest of the afternoon at the park passes without incident and they start their trek home.  It’s slow going, because John doesn’t like to be carried.  He and Evvie walk hand in hand down the meandering path.  

 

Steve humors his son as far as the edge of the park and then scoops him, squalling, into his arms.  John finally gives up trying to wiggle his way back to the ground and slumps against Steve’s shoulder with a grouchy sigh.  He’s asleep before they’ve walked another block.  

 

Evvie walks hand in hand with Peggy.  Steve watches them.  There is a strong physical resemblance between them, but their demeanors are so different that it’s often not obvious.  They have the same dark hair.  Their eyes are the same color and similarly shaped.  Evvie doesn’t have Peggy’s golden skin, she’s paler, pinker, like Steve.  And Evvie’s build is similar to Steve’s, before Erskine’s serum.  All in all, she’s a pretty girl, delicate and sweet tempered.  She looks younger than she is.

 

By contrast, John is a bruiser.  He’s built like a little tank, significantly larger than all of his peers, stronger and faster too.  He has Peggy’s golden skin and dark hair, but light eyes like Steve.  And the Carter dominance in spades.

  
Peggy’s mother started sending Christmas cards again after John was born.  So far as Steve knows, Peggy hasn’t returned the favor.

END CHAPTER


	8. The Smallest Carter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A jump into the future. Evvie's 24. 
> 
> Set well prior to the events from [There But For the Grace](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5820001)

“You know, I always considered you guys family,” Howard said, “but I didn’t expect to mean it literally.”

 

Peggy shook her head, rubbing her forehead and Steve simply stared at Howard, appalled at his horrible attempt at making a joke.  Sadly, however, Howard was being truthful.  Family.  They were all family now.  Forever.

 

Steve turned away, staring out the hallway window and down on the teeming traffic below.  He hated the way hospitals smelled.  He didn’t understand why women were expected to give birth in a sterile environment these days, attended by a plethora of doctors and nurses.  Both of his kids were born at home and everyone turned out fine.

 

“Evvie’s, okay, right?” Howard asked, his tone serious.

 

“She’s fine,” Peggy said wearily.  “And the baby is fine too.”

 

“Good,” Howard said softly.  He glanced toward the window and Steve knew he wanted to run.  Howard loved to run away from responsibilities.  The fact that he was here at all was testament to how much he cared about Evvie.  And how bad he felt about this whole mess.  Steve hoped he had some care for his grandson as well.

 

Steve suspected if it had been anybody, other than Evvie, whom Tony got in this situation, Howard would have paid a lot of money to hush it up.  And then done his level best to forget it ever happened.  

 

“Is Tony going to sign the birth certificate?” Steve asked, turning to face Howard.

 

“He will,” Howard said grimly.  “I promise you that.  The kid will have a name.”

 

“Great,” Steve said dryly.  “Peg’s mother will be thrilled to learn her great-grandson is a Stark.”  Secretly, Steve thought the old bat deserved the shock.  If there was any justice in the world, one day the Carter matriarch would meet Tony Stark.  That would be a clash for the ages.

 

* * *

 

“Carter Stark?” Steve said, wincing as he looked at Evvie.  

 

She seemed to be doing well, all things considered.  According to Peggy, it had been an incredibly difficult labor and birth.  And while Steve knew perfectly well that Evvie was an adult, she still looked so damn young.  Steve didn’t know if it was a side effect of the serum he and Peggy received.  It was clear neither of them were aging on a traditional trajectory.  The same was true of most of the soldiers who received the serum.  But their son, John, looked his age.  Perhaps it would taper off when he got older.  Steve really didn’t want to contemplate a future where he looked younger than his own son.

 

Evvie touched the baby’s cheek lightly and looked up at Steve, beaming.  “Yeah,” she said, nodding.  “Carter Stark.”

 

He frowned.  “Don’t you think that’s ... kind of confusing?” he asked.  “Two last names?”

 

“Carter is a first name too,” Evvie said, her bottom lip sticking out, clearly she liked the idea.  “I could name him Roger,” she offered.

 

“Do  _ not _ name that child Roger,” Peggy said darkly, walking into the room.

 

Steve looked over at her.  “You prefer Carter?”

 

Peggy held out her hands and Evvie gently settled the baby in her arms.  Peggy kissed his little cheek.  “At least he looks like a Carter,” she said.

 

Steve refrained from asking her if she intended to retroactively rename their teenage son considering he looked exactly like Steve and nothing like the Carters.  Such arguments never won him any points.  Especially not when he was right.

 

“Well, you should probably decide soon,” Steve said.  “The nurse said they are going to release you tomorrow.”

 

“We have some time,” Peggy said quietly.

 

Steve glanced over at her, uneasy with the tone she’d used.  “What does that mean?” he asked.  “Surely they typically have the birth certificate paperwork before she takes him home.”

 

Peggy looked at Steve, tight lipped.

 

“What?” he demanded.

 

“Howard wants a blood test,” Peggy said.  She cradled the baby in one arm and pressed the other hand against Steve’s chest, trying to forestall his angry reply.  “He says his lawyers are insisting on it.”

 

“I don’t believe this,” Steve cursed.  “A blood test?  Who the hell else would the father be but his juvenile delinquent son?” he demanded.  “This is Tony Stark’s kid.”

 

“ _ Dad _ ,” Evvie started.

 

He looked at her, a scathing response on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back.  She was about to start crying.  Huffing, he walked over and gave her a hard kiss on the forehead.

 

Steve still didn’t know what had happened between Evvie and Tony.  Truthfully, Steve didn’t really want to know.  He and Peggy had spent nights arguing about consent and what it could possibly look like between an Alpha and a lesser, whether it even occurred to Evvie that she didn’t have to give Tony whatever he wanted, or whether she had any desire, herself, for Tony.  

 

Steve argued that it was rape.  That Evvie was incapable of giving consent in that situation.  

 

Then Peggy asked him if she had raped him.  

 

And the whole situation got a lot messier.  Because, no, Steve swore, Peggy had not raped him.  She had not taken advantage of the differences in their statuses when they first became involved.  He wanted her, so desperately.  More than he ever wanted anything.  And that desire for her lasted long after he received Erskine’s serum.  He still wanted her today, years later.

 

Evvie said that Tony didn’t force her into anything, didn’t hurt her.  She was adamant that she wanted to keep the baby.

 

There had been no discussion of a custody agreement and Steve doubted there would be.  His grandson might get the Stark name, but it was clear Tony had no intention of being a father.  Whether things between Tony and Evvie were consensual or not, it was fairly clear that it wasn’t a love match.  

 

Steve wondered if Tony finally had what he wanted from Evvie, if this would finally make her a less appealing target.  He honestly didn’t know.

 

* * *

 

Peggy was sitting in the chair at Evvie’s bedside, the baby asleep in her arms.  She cuddled him close.  Poor little thing.  She loved him so desperately.  His little baby fingers and little baby toes.  His baby smell.  It had been sixteen years since Peggy held a Carter this small and her heart melted at the sight of him.

 

Evvie was resting as well and she needed it.  The pregnancy had been very difficult on her physically.  She suffered from severe morning sickness and anemia.  And Carter, though a tiny baby, was large for a tiny baby, nearly eight pounds.    

 

Peggy had been far from thrilled to learn she was going to be a grandmother.  Evvie was twenty-four and going to art school.  She still lived at home, and likely would for the rest of her life, especially if Steve had anything to say about it.  He didn’t seem to understand that protecting her didn’t actually protect her.  Evvie’s newborn son was evidence enough of that.

 

Evvie had as much freedom as was possible for an uncollared lesser of her age and social status.  Truthfully, it wasn’t a lot.  And yet, it was more than enough for Tony Stark to worm his way into her life, without anyone realizing.  Peggy thought they’d taken care of that dalliance years ago.  Clearly not.  She wondered if Tony would ever be done with Evvie.  It wasn’t a comfortable thought.

 

When Steve found out Evvie was pregnant, he’d lost his mind.  Peggy was truly scared he would go after Tony.  It had taken her, John, and Bucky to stop him.  Truly, it was probably Evvie who stopped him.  She’d been so upset that Steve finally relented.  

 

Once Steve calmed down, Evvie did too.  She seemed thrilled about the baby, though she was always tight lipped about Tony.  

 

As if summoned by the direction of Peggy’s thoughts, there was a knock at the door.  Peggy looked up as Tony walked through the door, carrying a bouquet of flowers.  He was alone and Peggy wondered if Howard had any idea he was here.  She suspected not.

 

Peggy rose to her feet and looked at him.  “Tony.”

 

He nodded, glancing uneasily at the baby.  “Peg.”  He held up the flowers and looked at Evvie.  “These are for Ev,” he said.

 

Peggy nodded to the bedside table and Tony set the flowers down.  He paused for a moment, looking at Evvie with an expression Peggy couldn’t read.  On another man, it might have been tenderness.  But there was something slightly cruel about the set of his jaw.

 

“Did you come to see your son?” Peggy asked.

 

Tony immediately turned toward her, looking from her to Carter and back.  

 

When it was clear he wasn’t going to answer, Peggy said, “Do you want to hold him?”

 

“I, uh,” Tony said, clasping his hands behind.

 

Peggy pursed her lips together and shook her head.  “What do you want Tony?” she asked.  “Haven’t you done enough?”

 

He simply looked at her, and again, Peggy couldn’t read his expression.  There was something, a longing, perhaps.  But it was mixed with undeniable animosity and anger.

 

Peggy sighed.  “You should go,” she said.  “Evvie needs to rest.”

 

He looked at Evvie again and the nodded, leaving without another word.

 

* * *

 

Peggy’s face was tight when Steve arrived at the hospital to pick everyone up the next evening.  She was waiting for him in the hallway outside Evvie’s room.  “What?” he asked cautiously.

 

“Tony is the father,” she said.

 

Steve threw up his hands.  “I already knew that.”

 

“Yes, well, now  _ everyone _ knows it,” Peggy snapped.

 

Steve’s brow furrowed.  “What?”

 

She sighed.  “Tony was here.”

 

“Here?” Steve demanded.  “Tony Stark had the nerve to come here?”

 

Peggy waved him off.  “He signed the paperwork,” she said wearily.  She frowned.  “He saw the baby.”

 

Steve waited.  “And?”

 

Peggy shrugged.  “And nothing,” she said.  “He refused to hold the baby.  He brought Evvie flowers and he was ... quiet, respectful.”

 

“What aren’t you saying?” Steve demanded.

 

“He’s not done with her,” Peggy said darkly.  “Whatever fascination she holds for him, he’s not done with her.”

 

“Jesus,” Steve cursed.  “What does he want?  He’s spent his entire life chasing her.  Now she’s in the goddamn hospital with his kid and it’s still not enough?”

 

“He signed the birth certificate,” Peggy said, shaking her head wearily.  “That’s something I guess.  Howard set up a trust.  I’m sure he already put Carter on the list for the most elite schools in the city.”

 

“Over my dead body,” Steve snapped.  “We don’t need handouts.”

 

Peggy’s lips pursed into a thin line and she looked up at him.  “I understand your position.  And for the most part, I agree with you.  But you can’t expect we’ll take him home and close ranks around him like you did with Evvie.  He’s a Stark, Steve.  And he’s an Alpha.  He’s not going to be like Evvie.”

 

Steve’s jaw was clenched.  “We’re raising an Alpha.  It’s not exactly uncharted territory.”

 

Peggy sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.  “John is  _ your _ son,” she said carefully.  She shook her head.  “Carter is Tony Stark’s son.  It won’t be the same, Steve.  I know you love Carter.  I love him too.  But we’re not his parents.  Tony and Howard will have a say in his life.”

 

“You said Tony refused to hold him,” Steve bit out.  “He doesn’t get a say.”

 

Peggy counted to ten in her head.  

 

“That’s not how it works, Steve,” she said patiently.  “Tony’s probably going to be a shitty father.  But he’s still Carter’s father.  And he still has rights.”

 

“Parental rights can be terminated,” Steve said darkly.

 

“Not when the parent is question is a Stark,” Peggy countered.  “And the mother is Evvie.”  She shook her head.  “She won’t fight him, Steve.  You know she won’t.  And you can’t do it for her.  Carter is her son.  And nothing good will come from you starting a war with Tony and Howard.”

 

* * *

 

Steve answered the phone before the ring had ended.  Before it could wake up the sleeping baby.  “Yeah?”

 

“It’s me,” Bucky said with a weary sigh.  “I found ‘er, but you should get over here.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy watched as Steve escorted Evvie into the apartment.  Her head was bowed, but Peggy could see the way her cheeks flamed with a blush.  Not to mention the love bites on her neck and the fact that her shirt wasn’t buttoned properly.  She didn’t seem upset or hurt, only embarrassed.  

 

Peggy was holding Carter, rubbing circles against his back, shushing his squawks.  Evvie immediately crossed the room to him, taking him in her arms.  Carter started rooting against her chest, making plaintive noises.  At six months old, and round as a butterball, it was clear he wasn’t starving.  But it was also obvious that he wanted to eat.

 

Evvie nodded to Peggy and retreated down the hall to the room she and Carter shared.

 

Peggy sat there, watching as Steve sank down onto the couch.  He looked awful, pale and heartsick.

 

“Tell me,” Peggy said quietly.

 

Steve rubbed his forehead with his hand, grimacing.  “Tony Stark.  Again.”  He shook his head, clearly upset.  “We, uh ...”  He trailed off.  “She should be on contraceptives.”

 

Peggy laughed mirthlessly.  Steve looked over at her, expression stricken.  “You’re precious,” she said flatly.  “Evelyn’s been on contraceptives since Carter was born.”

 

He groaned, leaning forward, cradling his head in his hands.  

 

Peggy felt badly for him, she did.  But she was so tired.  “Did he hurt her?” 

 

Steve shook his head.  “No, I don’t think so.  But he doesn’t care about her.  He just - “

 

“Wants her,” Peggy finished.  She looked at Steve.  “He’s  _ always _ wanted her.  Long before it included sex.”  

 

Steve frowned and shook his head, clearly frustrated.  

 

“We need to find an arrangement for her,” Peggy said.  “She needs a collar.”

 

Steve gave her a hard look.

 

“Don’t start with me,” Peggy said briskly.  “You know that it would give her structure.  Right now, she’s completely at the whims of anyone more dominant.  She needs protection from someone who is not her parent.”

 

“And who do you suggest?” Steve snapped.

 

Peggy stared at him and took a deep breath.  “Howard.”

 

He gaped at her.  “Howard?  Peggy, that’s - “

 

“I don’t mean as a consort,” Peggy said.  “Christ, Steve.  For all his faults, I don’t think even Howard would be into that.  I mean for protection.  If Tony intends to have her, the only person with a chance in hell of keeping her away from him is Howard.  You know that as well as I do.”

 

Steve shook his head.  “I don’t understand why Tony has always had it out for her.”

 

“Tony Stark has always had everything he wants,” Peggy said.  “With the exception of one thing, his father’s affection.  And that is the one thing Evvie has always had.  She has always been Howard’s favorite.  He adores her, dotes on her.  And Tony will never forgive that.  So he intends to punish her for it, and by extension, Howard.”

 

Steve sat there, looking utterly defeated.  “I’ll call Howard tomorrow,” he said.  “See if we can work something out.”

 

END SECTION


End file.
